𝖙𝖔 𝖇𝖊 𝖞𝖔𝖚𝖗 𝖗𝖊𝖒𝖊𝖉𝖞 // ғ.ᴡ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

Chapter 10: WHAT DID HE SAY?

The day ended quickly, spent relaxing, writing, watching the clouds dance across the sky. Tranquillity was a sunny day spent at The Burrow, surrounded by your surrogate family. A cast of colourful, passionate, hilarious characters; without whom you would be alone in this soulless existence they call the world.

Before you knew it the sun was a palette of oranges, bruising into pinks and then reds as the sunset. It poured into you a sense of inner peace you hadn't felt for a while. You were able to just sit, to just be.

Overall, you felt rather accomplished. You had finished "sick of losing soulmates" with the help of Harry. As well as finishing off the chords of another one of your new songs, with your guitar in hand, as the sunset behind you.

Fred thought you looked like a painting from where he was sat. he was listening to music, on an old iPlayer that you had gifted him in 3rd year. That weekend you had taught him how to work it and he had been adding songs ever since, with the help of Harry and Hermione. After you vanished from his life, he missed the insight and knowledge you could bring, among other things. He had to look for them in other people. He hadn't yet found someone that could speak a boring topic into a lively personality, making anyone around you captivated by the nonsensical syllables spouting from your lips. Nobody would care what you were saying, as long as it was said by you, and with a passion only you possessed.

The wooden guitar that sat in your lap was acquired from a charity shop, long before you had attended Hogwarts for the first time. It was a prized possession, you bought it with the money from a birthday present gifted to you by your cousins. All money you had was from gifts, a result of your parents never giving you pocket money and barely enough money for school supplies and essentials, and being too young for a job.

When you bought it you vowed to your 10-year-old self that you would learn, be the best bloody guitarist anyone around you knew. Considering you had taught yourself and now you were able to play things just from listening once or twice, you were relatively proud of yourself.

After years of love and pain that had soaked into the wood, as well as broken bits of your soul woven into the strings- physically it wasn't looking too good. Every couple of months you would doodle on an area of it, sometimes erasing old drawings you grew out of with magic. It tended to reflect your mood, your headspace on the outside, as well as obviously being able to speak your emotions through melodies. It was well worn, well-loved, having the same essence of you as your notebook did.

As you were humming along to the chords of your new song, a certain bushy-haired witch was listening. Finishing your strumming pattern, Hermione walked into the frame, surprising you. A result of music writing or performing, you tended to get into your own little world, idyllic and explosive all at the same time.

"That was beautiful y/n" she says, a smile appeared on her face. She loved your music, your voice, she thought you were incredibly talented.

"Thanks 'Mione, I just finished it today." You reply, with a smile to accompany hers.

"You should play it later, we're thinking of having a fire and maybe having some firewhiskey!" excitement evident, her first words were nearly drowned by the promise of booze and warmth.

"Oh I couldn't play in front of everyone," by everyone you meant the boys, mainly Fred, you both knew what you meant, "but a fire sounds perfect." An easy smile gracing your features, trying to get out of the yes Hermione was bound to squeeze out of you. She's very convincing.

"Y/n, it's about time you shared some of your music with us, were your friends after all!" before you could interject, defend yourself by saying you were just shy she said, "I saw you singing for Harry earlier, and when your drunk you always sing so don't give me any of that rubbish." Countered Hermione, accusation laced in her tone. She was only teasing but she did have a point.

But you couldn't just roll over yet, "Firstly, Harry helped me finish a song, he needed to hear me sing it for him to assist, secondly, I only sing covers when I'm drunk. Singing an original is like getting naked in front of everyone and saying 'here's my soul, please feel free to chew it up and spit it out'." You finished.

As expected, she burst out laughing, quickly composing herself. You packed up your stuff and walked with her inside. Placing a hand on your shoulder, turning your body to hers, she explained:

"I understand where you are coming from, however, I do think it would benefit you to share some of your originals. I'm not going to force you or anything, but you have such a beautiful voice, and all of us absolutely adore you. Even if you sounded like a dying pigeon, we would love you." You both giggled at that. Pulling her into a hug, silently thanking her. Maybe singing an original wouldn't be too bad. The firewhiskey would no doubt help.

"You have one of the most beautiful voices, and if you were to sing for us, to share yourself with us, I cannot comprehend how anyone would feel negatively about you or your talent. You know how I feel about your voice, but no pressure. Like 'Mione said." Commented a deep voice, coming from a very tall redhead who appeared seemingly out of thin air. You spun around, followed by Hermione to see Fred staring back at you intensely. Without saying another word, he walked ahead of the two of you, who were both stood in shock. What the fuck just happened? 

A/N- this was apart of a really long chapter, but I decided to break it up, ill be posting the next chapter soon! hope you are all liking the story so far :)

- arlo xx